The Astronaut
by Ammanalien
Summary: Missing scene for The Daedalus Variations. McKay whump of course! with a teeny hint of McKeller.


A missing scene from The Daedalus Variations so we can fully enjoy Rodney's injury.

The Astronaut

A man can be many things and Rodney McKay is no exception.

He's been alternately a scientist and a soldier so many times the line is blurring. He's been a midwife once; a pilot more than once. A hero... well, maybe. For a short time, and to a number of what turned out to be non-virtual people, he's even been a great leader.

But it's not often that a super-genius gets to be a spaceman. So here he sits, very still, in his EVA suit, on one of the long benches at the rear of the jumper. His helmet is on the seat beside him. He can't remember taking it off.

It's shady and quiet under the bulkheads close to the back door; he finds it matches his mood entirely. Cold too, though, which is surprising; he knows Radek always sets the heating too high.

He's exhausted; on a scale of one to ten, probably a nine... he needs the extra one out of ten to keep himself upright.

It's the suit that's warming him, along with the soft glow of heat from his tablet where it's nestling against his chest. It's doing that thing where it beeps to signal a low battery, rhythmically thumping against his ribs and right arm. It occurs to him, as an interesting aside, that it shouldn't be beeping, as it had a full charge just that morning. Then again, jumping through realities can be draining.

Looking around he thinks he is the only one who can hear it anyway.

His eyes wearily scan the jumper; he can't see Lorne or Radek, they're up front. He sees Sheppard and Ronon stepping out of their suits and a little behind them, almost obscured by the two men, he notices Teyla, who still wears her suit minus the helmet. She's flushed and is kneeling awkwardly, bowed over, whilst going through a big red holdall. Rodney, in a light moment, thinks she looks like a marshmallow; a very dangerous and beautiful marshmallow.

Only a heartbeat later, he blinks and she is there in front of him, in her familiar black BDUs.

"How are you feeling?" she asks smoothly, gazing deeply into his eyes.

Rodney can't help being himself, especially when he feels like crap and so, before he can bite it back, he snaps an unfortunate reply.

Teyla sighs. She has that face... that long-suffering face; he's seen it a lot, so he's not surprised.

"Can I help you take this off?" she goes on patiently. She sounds like a cloakroom attendant; _may I take your coat, sir? _and he doesn't answer at first.

God, when was the last time someone said that to him? Has anyone _ever _said that to him? An echo of a normal life, he thinks, a million miles away; a life that would never be his. Out for the evening... with your significant other... going for drinks...

Taking notice again, he sees that she's turned away; he watches the copper shimmer of her hair, hears it swish against her neck.

_Pretty hair._

"Colonel Sheppard, do you have a moment?" she calls.

_Huh_.. so that's the plan, gang up on him and take away his cosy, warm suit. Screw that.

So, in a voice more suited to a choirboy, he pipes up with, "I'm cold... rather keep it," and then, as his chin bumps his chest, he mumbles, "It's cold in here..." into the fabric of his shirt.

"No, it's not." He is surprised to hear the colonel's voice so close.

Rodney's teeth suddenly begin to chatter horribly, and he realises he's panting a little.

"Yes it is... just... leave me, okay. J-just..." It really is too much of an effort to continue. His arm is hurting now, it's not the thumping of the warm tablet, it's actually hurting, and all at once he remembers why.

_Injured..._ he was injured back there.

He remembers ripping open a pocket and Teyla helping him slap a flimsy dressing across the tear in his jacket. They were in a hurry, scrambling to pull on suits, with no time to deal with his arm.

"You will be fine" she'd said, and he believed her.

His eyes close and his head falls back and _thwacks_ against the bulkhead behind him. A noise begins, a strange rushing sound, and he wonders if the door has opened. But, no.. they're in space; open door... bad.

_Close the door, John._

He feels distant and his mind takes him back to those minutes before, when he floated in the hollow black of space, feeling so alone even though his team mates were right there drifting alongside him.

He's back in the jumper now and...

"What are you doing?" he asks, startled.

Sheppard says, "Getting you out of your suit, what does it look like we're doing?" and there's Sheppard and Ronon and Teyla all helping him, wrestling with tabs and poppers, flaps and toggles...

He's a thrifty astrophysicist so, when he sees the scissors in Teyla's hand, he says "No! These are.. _incredibly _expensive... no scissors - no."

Teyla looks exasperated with him again, but the scissors are discarded.

They don't need to ruin the thing, he just has to stand up, that's all. As he snags the zipper and drags it down with fumbling fingers, his glowing tablet slides out. Curiously, it's not beeping anymore. Sheppard catches it with one hand, stoops and stows it carefully under the seat. Then, as he straightens, he reaches for the open edges of McKay's suit with both hands.

"I can do it... I can do it" says the scientist, irritated, and he leans forward and pushes up from the bench awkwardly with one hand. The others are forced backwards by this unexpected stagger.

He's up on his feet swaying, and then he feels gravity begin to peel the unfastened heavy suit from his shoulders and arms. There are several hands on him to speed the process, but they are not really needed.

Then something strange happens. All the hands stop what they are doing and everyone looks at him. Rodney copies them. He blinks down at himself. He's still wearing his black jacket and vest, of course. But his right arm looks... strange. It's shiny, he notices, shiny black where the dark fabric covers it, and blood is trickling - no, _streaming_ across his palm. Staring at his upper arm, he tries to see the dressing he knows is there, but there's nothing to see but blood. A lot of blood.

It occurs to Rodney that the suit may be ruined already.

It's Teyla that comes right out with it. "That's a lot of blood, John" she says quietly, and it's quite unnecessary because any fool can see, it's a _heck_ of a lot of blood to have dripping from your fingertips. Surely more than a body can ordinarily stand.

"... lot of blood, John" echoes Rodney, because he feels compelled to say something, and because he finds he has to agree with Teyla.

His voice is breathless and small, and no one seems to hear him; later, he supposes his voice got lost in all the excitement of catastrophic blood-loss.

_Lot of blood, John..._

"Sit" orders the colonel, "...now," and he nudges the scientist backwards onto his rear. With both hands, Sheppard roughly grabs at the blood-soaked sleeve. McKay hears a tearing sound and there's a pulling at the wound which is almost unbearable. The tugging sensation turns his stomach over, and Rodney thinks it can't be long before he throws up.

Ronon, his face stern, turns and strides away to the front.

Now McKay is looking into John's eyes. His grasp on Rodney's bicep is vice-like. McKay yelps, the pain claws up his arm and lodges itself somewhere between his eyes. As he tries in vain to shake the hand off, he thinks he hears someone say, "Sorry."

As the colonel squeezes unrelentingly, McKay pants and gasps, his whole body trembling. He sees a flash of white fabric at the edges of his vision; Sheppard is wrapping a pressure bandage around the injury. Rodney sees the taut expression on the pilot's face change to a grimace, as if he feels for himself the pain that Rodney feels.

Rodney's own face twists, and his eyes prickle; _god, are those tears?_

"Bastard..." he breathes, because at that moment he hates Sheppard and feels no remorse whatsoever.

John says nothing, his dark eyes very clear and steady.

Rodney thinks, _it's okay, he's not worried, I'll be fine.._

Then his balance deserts him and what with Teyla pushing or pulling him sideways, and the bench he's sitting on tilting so much, he has to give in to the forces upon him and he goes down.

His legs are whipped up on the bench and the space suit is at last gone. In its place a blanket barely covers him from ankles to waist; he sees his toes are poking out, they feel icy.

His arm throbs in time to his heartbeat.

He hears the social buzz of many voices, and he imagines himself at a cocktail party for astronauts; he's hiding behind a potted palm.

Then someone says, "Hey, Rodney..." and it's a bright and cheerful sound. He realises the doctor is here.

_She likes me._

Doctor Keller: she likes him, he thinks, although why someone like her would bother with someone like him is one of the ultimate questions of life and as such, unanswerable.

Her neck is long and graceful, and it's not five inches away from his face. She talks to someone off to the left, he sees her tuck a strand of hair behind an ear. She wears her hair in a pony tail, secured with a plain old office rubber band. It bounces back and forth over her shoulders as her head turns.

_Pretty hair._

The tiny pulse he sees at her throat, mesmerises him.

He has the sudden urge to reach up, pull her neck to his lips and...

_Where did that come from, McKay?_

Now she speaks, but not to him.

"I don't like his pressure and I don't like his colour; let's move."

So unfair... that he can't defend himself against insults like that.

He never cares what people think of him, and yet strangely he finds he cares a good deal what _she_ thinks of him.

He tries to say,_ no,_ _you like me_, but something is muffling his lips and they move without sound, feeling numb and stupid. There's a mask on his face; he smells plastic and a chill medicinal wind that makes him shiver.

Someone fusses around his left arm. The needle stings as it's inserted, but only briefly.

He's lifted; then deposited somewhere hard. Next, he's moving and he sees the ceiling in the hallway flashing by above him. Now and then he glimpses a face... and a flash of honey coloured hair.

"..two units for now, I think. Get me a temp please, Judy."

The sounds and smells of the infirmary are all around and he feels himself deposited onto a soft bed. Keller's face is very close; her eyes are dark.

"You're going to be fine, Rodney. We're giving you a transfusion... do you understand?" she asks him kindly.

Yes, he does, but nothing seems to work from the neck up and all he can do is stare vacantly.

She looks puzzled, her brows creasing.

_I'm okay,_ he assures her in his head, _don't worry about me._

But she really does look worried about something, and without saying anything she drops her hand onto his shoulder and rubs gently. Her smile is warm and seems only for him. A second later she looks away.

"Let's get the lights down... close the curtains. I'd like him to sleep - oh, and bring an extra blanket"

The light diminishes; noise is muffled, but he hears the swish of the curtain. His arm hurts a little; a dark bag of blood hangs above him, but he's warm and he feels safe, so inevitably his eyelids begin to slip closed.

She is still there, standing next to him. She's talking... studying charts... adjusting equipment.. sometimes she glances his way, but then her head turns again and her pony tail bounces and bobs around her shoulders like it has a life of its own.

_She's lovely_, he thinks; _you're lovely,_ he tries to say, but that thought has to stay his own... for the time being anyway. Although the mask is gone, replaced by a smaller canula, his voice doesn't respond.

_Lovely_, he tries again, feeling vaguely ridiculous. Like when you're drunk, but not quite drunk enough not to care what you say.

Later, he'll be glad he never said it out loud; a silly sentiment surely, born of medication and hypovolemia.

It's an interesting thought, though, and it stays with him until his eyes close completely. Everything is quiet but he knows she's still there.

He yawns widely; it's his last positive action before sleep claims him. Maybe he'll dream of space, vast and cold, drifting like a speck of nothingness on an imaginary breeze.

Or perhaps that wonderful cocktail party, in a reality far, far away, where life is simple and beautiful medical doctors fall for handsome astronauts.

And with that thought, he slips away into a deep and dreamless sleep.

oOo

Thanks for reading! I found writing McKeller INCREDIBLY difficult, so I don't think I'll be doing it again... I hope I did okay, please review if you have time. Cheers!xxx


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